


Bruce

by syntheticaesthetic



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 14:32:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/941104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syntheticaesthetic/pseuds/syntheticaesthetic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite all evidence to the contrary, Daryl Dixon does not hate children. But, his position on this issue might be reconsidered after a rescue attempt for 'Bruce.' One-shot. Rated T for Dixon-esque language</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bruce

Despite evidence to the contrary, Daryl Dixon did not hate children. While the truth of the matter was that he wasn’t exactly sure how to deal with them when they were in his presence, he actually preferred them to adults, most of the time. On this day, however, he’d have to reconsider his opinion on the matter.

            As he sat on the outside of his tent skinning his latest catch of squirrels, Daryl wished for the first time for Lori Grimes’ presence. Her rugrat –Carl – was running around with the Peletier girl— Sophia — and the Morales children, hooping and hollering and running about like feral dogs. From what he could tell from his position, the boys had ganged up on the girls and started in on the harassment. It looked like the girls were defending something, more than likely their dolls, from the boys’ grimy hands. As her younger brother latched onto her arm, trying to wrestle the damn thing from her grasp, the Morales girl made a screeching sound that burned Daryl’s ears, and started kicking at him, the little maniac attached to her laughing all the while.

            Where the hell were their parents? They couldn’t _all_ be down at the lake could they? If his observations were correct, by the rotation, it was Lori’s turn to watch the maniacs, while Carol and the Morales mother did the laundry by the lake – the elder Morales male off with Merle and a few others of the group on a run to Atlanta. Dale, who usually sat atop his Winnebago was nowhere to be found, more than likely on the search for water in Shane’s absence. And thinking of Shane, where the fuck was he? Daryl would be pissed if he found out that Lori was out screwing Shane while no one was left to watch the kids. Damn fools wanted their little ones to become geek fodder it seemed like.

            His patience at an end, he stood as the youngest Morales gave a shriek and took off at a sprint down to the lake, presumably to tell on his sister, who followed at a surprisingly fast pace, shouting for him to “man up.” Carl, an impish grin on his face, followed to watch the carnage.  That left little Sophia to face the wrath of Dixon, at least until Daryl stomped up to her ready to tell her off and have her pass on the word to her little friends, and saw the tears on her face. Not quite ready to give into her big, watery, eyes, and innocent face yet, he mustered up a gruff but calm voice.

            “What the hell you kids doin’, yellin’ and screamin’ like that?” he demanded. Sophia looked up at him after wiping her eyes with the back of her arm, before straightening up and facing him. It was a move he had done himself many times when answering to his father.

            “Carl and Louis tried to take Eliza’s and my stuff, Mr. Dixon.” She reported in a wavering voice.

            “Why’d they want to do that?” he asked, not really caring about the answer but wanting to get to the bottom of this quickly so that he could chew out Lori properly later.

            “Because they are stupid boys.” She responded.

            Daryl couldn’t argue with that, so instead he narrowed his eyes at her.

            “Carl and Louis were doing some stupid competition, how high they could throw stuff.” She explained. “Pine cones and sticks and stuff. Eliza told them to stop or she’d tell when Lori got back, so Louis tried to grab her doll so that he could throw it in the river, and then he told Carl to grab Bruce and do the same thing and at first he didn’t wanna but the Louis told him he’d win because Carl was a chicken and so he did and now Bruce is up a tree and I got really mad and the Eliza hit Louis and—“

            Daryl held up a hand, no longer able to keep up, and with her explanation increasing in speed he became even more lost. Instead he latched on to what he could catch.

            “Okay! Okay! Now…who the hell is Bruce?” he asked.

            “My rabbit.” She told him mournfully.

            Daryl frowned. “Where the hell is Lori?” Sophia shrugged. “Did she say she’d be back?”

            “Yes, sir.”

            “When?”

            Another shrug.

            “Who’d she put in charge until she came back?”

            Another shrug. “Eliza?”

            Daryl pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to fight back the tide of anger.

            “Okay…” he sighed, putting together all of the pieces. “So the other brats went down to the lake. I take it Eliza had her doll?”

            Sophia nodded.

            “Where’s Bruce?” he asked her curtly.

            Sophia pointed up.

            Not too far up the nearest tree a stuffed rabbit with floppy ears was wedged between the branches. Looking back down at Sophia, Daryl could only marvel at how he had gotten himself into this situation playing peacekeeper with a bunch of kids. Like he decided earlier, he would have to reevaluate his position on not hating children. Walking up to the tree, he squinted up into the sun, gauging the stupidity of his plan. If he was careful on where he placed his feet it shouldn’t be too difficult to climb up and throw ‘Bruce’ back down to Sophia, before climbing back down, finding Lori and giving her a piece of his mind, and disappearing out into the solitude of the woods to go out hunting until Merle got back. 

            “Okay.” He repeated to Sophia before wiping the palms of his hands on his pants. “I’ll git ‘im for ya. But ya don’t tell a single soul, ‘specially not Merle or I’ll scalp ya, understand?” He waited for the girl to nod quickly and, after a running start began his ascent into the tree. It didn’t take long to get up to the right height to grab the thing, but the trouble ended up being that the branch Bruce was wedged tightly into was just out of reach of his fingertips, and there were no other adjoining branches that could support his weight to move to. No matter how sweetly Sophia batted her eyelashes at him, he was not risking his life for a stupid stuffed rabbit.

            Giving it one last attempt, he reached out as far as he could, straining his arm for the tip of an ear. He pulled, and heard a faint ripping, the fabric becoming entrenched even further in the branch. There was nothing to be done for it. Maybe her mother or one of the others had the materials to fix it? Pulling more firmly he tugged until enough stuffing fell out that it slid through the branches, and tossed the remainder down to the little girl.

            When he arrived back on the ground, he took in her face as she looked at her ruined toy and silently agreed with a statement he knew she’d not be brave enough to say out loud: boys could be bastards. He couldn’t believe how bad he actually felt for her, and for not being able to return Bruce to her in an unharmed state. It wasn’t as if the whole damn world falling apart had been enough, apparently.  “Sorry.” He mumbled to her. “I tried.”

            Sophia, still looking down, cradled the thing to her chest. Daryl continued on. “Maybe yer mom can fix it.” He suggested, shifting his weight uneasily. He really hoped she wouldn’t start crying again.

            “Maybe.” She said in a small voice, unconvinced.

            What happened next stunned him. When little Sophia Peletier looked up at big ol’ mean Daryl Dixon, she had the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen on a little girl, and while she still looked a little sad, a little mixed up and confused, that bright smile was aimed at him.

            So he growled at her. “What you smilin’ about girl?” he grumped.

            She smiled wider. “You _tried_.” She emphasized.  She looked like she wanted to hug him. “Thank you, Mr. Dixon.” He took a step back. _Please don’t hug me,_ he prayed. _Please don’t hug me._

            “Don’t tell no one.” He warned her.

            “Why not?” she asked.

            “Just don’t. “specially not Merle.”

            Understanding crossed her face. “Okay, I won’t tell no one.”

            “Cross yer heart?”

            “Sophia!” Lori Grimes’ worried voice sounded out before Sophia could cross her heart. As Lori raced over to the little girl, breathless, her clothing slightly askew, asking “what happened?” Daryl fixed her with a glare.

            “Where the hell were you? Keep an eye on those damn kids!” he growled at her before stomping off to his tent, leaving a bewildered Lori and brightly smiling Sophia behind.

            That night, Sophia told her mother – just her mother – what happened that day. 


End file.
